Please don't take offense, but to much of our nervous nation, the prospect of San Fernando Valley cityhood may be of little consequence.

To those who live in other great cities it may be news from nowhere, a smoke signal of discontent from a gargantuan suburb in search of identity, self-determination and respect.

Because should the Valley break free from Los Angeles, its former partner would nonetheless wind up with the region's tourism trophies: Hollywood (if residents there stay in city confines), Griffith Park, fabled beaches, Sunset Boulevard and one-of-a-kind neighborhoods from Bel-Air to Chinatown.

A new Valley metropolis would inherit Universal Studios, the Hollywood Reservoir and a couple of noteworthy delicatessens. Not exactly a tourist mecca waiting to explode.

Thus it could be argued that secessionists, though ostensibly pure of heart, are rather shortsighted. They may indeed get their independence, their presumed tax relief, their freedom.

L.A.'s revolutionaries, however, will surely be wanting when it comes to tourist cash.

There may be a better way. It will take guts, though. It will take initiative and resourcefulness and lawyers. For an opportunity exists to place the proposed breakaway town on front pages from Boston to Boise. To grab visitor dollars by the millions. To position Ventura Boulevard as a destination to rival, say, Niagara Falls or Yellowstone or Las Vegas.

The Valley ought to join France. Face it, Americans just love to travel, love getting their passports stamped, love colorful, exotic notes in their wallets and are suckers for anything with a distinctly foreign flair.

And perilous times are scaring long-distance travelers to death. So why should they chance the uncertainties of Europe when a bona fide example of Continental charm lies just over the Hollywood sign?

Tax revenues would soar, what with visa fees and value-added levies. There would be currency-exchange profits and rocketing revenues from souvenir stamps. Just think of the hotel taxes and international driving license charges.

France, where blue-collar workers receive subsidized opera tickets, might throw in a ballet company or two. Resorts and museums would spring up faster than tract homes. A branch of French Disneyland in the Valley? Could happen. After all, Mickey's corporate headquarters would remain in nearby Burbank.

But what happens to that independent spirit should the French come walking in with their gendarmes and crepes and subtitled films?

Not much, really. Very little at all. We are, after all, talking about a new administrative region almost 7,000 miles from the Champs-Elysees, an out-of-sight, out-of-mind territory on the order of Tahiti.

In the meantime, U.S. dollars will pour through the Cahuenga Pass faster than you can say Gerard Depardieu.

Ah, yes, there is that little matter of Washington and Congress and potential U.S. reluctance to cede domestic soil to a foreign power. A mere detail for sure.

After all, our past four administrations have wrangled with the issue of drawing the French closer to the Stars and Stripes, attempting to convince Parisians it's bad business to sell Iraq everything from power plants to telephones.

There's also the question of American warplanes gaining permission to sortie through French airspace - not exactly piece-of-cake diplomacy.

A Valley pied-a-terre could bring our two nations closer than they've been in years, erasing Gallic Louisiana Purchase regrets once and for all.

So break out the brie and burritos, the cognac and quesadillas. No more financial woes. No more L.A. imperialism. And what's another language in an already multilingual melting pot?

Vive le Valley.

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Photo:

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Dean Musgrove/Staff Photographer

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